Bird on the Wing

[OrangeblossomTook]

Bird on the Wing

It was a bright day and the electric blue sky was infinite above dots of dark green forest set in the dark, sapphire waters of this spot where the waters of the great Western ocean intruded into the continent. The wind was blowing in wild from the north and, even though it was the height of summer, the air was crisp.

On one of the green dots, the wind buffeted at a lone figure making its way up the rocky path from the beach carrying a backpack. A small rowboat occupied the otherwise deserted dock. The only sounds were the cries of the gulls, the waves, the creaking of the dock, and the rustle and roar of the stands of forest nearest the beach.

Ava took a deep breath and relished the fresh air which carried the tang of salt and the freshness of evergreen on it. She was so glad to be on this camping trip. She needed some peace and quiet and there was certainly plenty of it here. She made her way up the first steep hill off the beach. When the path leveled off, she grabbed handfuls of the berries that grew alongside the path where the firs and cedars were cleared enough to allow them to flourish.

She knew where there was an artesian spring on this island; she and her family had been camping here for decades. She went in that direction. The path narrowed and continued under a sliver-green tunnel of alders. The tunnel opened up, revealing a grassy clearing in the forest on one side and a hill covered with moss rising up on the other. Ava started climbing up the hill and pitched her tent on a patch of thick, dry moss on the hill’s summit before going back down again to fill her water bottles at the spring.

She took a sip before returning up the hill and marveled, as she always did, at the coldness and freshness of the water. She returned to her tent, feeling as peaceful and refreshed as she ever had. It was warmer away from the beach and the air was almost still here, the silence nearly total. She had just decided that she would rather put a blanket down on the moss and read in the sunshine than return to the beach or hike toward the center of the island when she heard a sharp crack.

“bunny slipper,” she thought, “Wildlife is protected here!”

There was another report of gunfire and, this time, it was followed by a piercing, inhuman scream. Something large fell out of the sky and crashed through branches. Ava thought they must have actually shot an eagle! She grabbed her bear spray and her first aid kit and ran toward where the bird fell. If she was lucky, it would still be alive and she’d be able to keep it that way without it biting her fingers off.

She slowed down when she got closer to where she thought the eagle fell. It would be better if she could aid the bird without the hunters being alerted. There was no telling what someone foolish and cruel enough to kill something as magnificent as an eagle just for its feathers or to have it stuffed on the mantelpiece would do.

She heard thrashing. That was good. It meant the bird was alive! She moved toward it but stopped short when she saw what was writhing in pain on the forest floor. For a moment, shock prevented her mind from processing any coherent thoughts. There were wings, there were feathers but this was not an eagle. It was a man...

Or…not. Certainly, there were wings, great wings covered with feathers that were every color of brown, from golden at the wing tips to almost black at the shoulders. The span of one wing was probably longer than Ava was tall, giving the creature before her a wingspan more than twice that of any bird now flying, but it wasn’t the size of the wings that gave her pause. It was what was attached to them which was, apparently, a boy. He was slight and had hair the color of his darkest feathers.


She was brought out of her trace when she saw he had a wounded arm. Slowly and gently, she moved toward him making soothing noises. He quieted and looked at her with eyes as bright and copper-colored as any raptor’s. He back slightly away from her until they heard voices coming towards them.

His eyes grew wild and he made as if to launch himself once more into the air.

“No,” she said in an urgent whisper, “they’ll try to shoot you down again if you fly!” She was relieved to see little injury to his wings. He must have decided to try for shelter under the trees after being grazed by the bullet and, other than that, was bruised and scratched from his crash through the trees. He let her come close and wrap a scarf around his arm; then she led him by the arm as they fled. She didn’t hear the hunters’ voices anymore and they probably went off in the wrong direction but they would be canvassing the area.

She knew where there was an abandoned cabin. The hunters wouldn’t look for Bird Boy there, especially if they still thought they had gotten an ordinary eagle. They moved as swiftly toward it as they could without making an undue amount of noise.

Once inside, she took her scarf off of his arm and tended him with the first aid kit. He only made the smallest of skreeing when she dabbed at the worst of the scrapes with the antiseptic. She gave him some water from her bottle and laid him down on an old blanket to rest and tried to make him understand he had to stay. He made some sounds in response that were very birdlike but also, unmistakably, a language. It sounded like acquiescence and that was good enough for her.

She returned to her tent to get a can of salmon from her provisions. Eagles ate salmon. Bird Boy would probably eat salmon.

She was rummaging in her pack when two men came up. They were roughly the size of refrigerators, dressed in flannel and denim, and were wearing hunting vests but she knew immediately there was something wrong about them. They were too clean, their hair too freshly cut, their large bodies too trim, and they wore the wrong kind of sunglasses. When they spoke, she was positive they were no ordinary poachers.

One asked “Have you seen anything strange around here, Ma’am?”

She managed a nonchalant, “No, why do you ask?”

“Oh, we heard there were bears here,” said the other, “let us know if you notice anything out of the ordinary. We’re camping over by Shallow Cove.”

“I’ll tell my husband to keep on the lookout, too,” she lied airily, “he’s off fishing right now.”

She kept one hand on the bear spray in her pocket until they left, satisfied she was alone.

She waited until night to return to the abandoned cabin and feed Bird Boy. He seemed to approve of the salmon and made short work of it. She figured the poor thing hadn’t had too many good meals lately.

She had to figure out a way to communicate with him and something to call him besides Bird Boy. She pointed to herself and said, “Ava.”
“A-va,” he repeated, pointing to her.

She pointed at him. He nodded, pointed to himself and spoke but she couldn’t readily reproduce the sound he made. “Darn,” she thought. He’d have to remain Bird Boy until he learned enough English to translate that for her. Pretty soon she had him saying floor, blanket, fish, wing, and the words of everything else she could point to and name for him.

It went on like this for a week. Her remarkable discovery had chased all thoughts of what she would do after her two weeks of vacation were up from her mind. Bird Boy was a remarkably apt pupil and knew more words every day.

One day towards the end of the week, he pointed to himself, held up one of his darker feathers that had molted, and said, “Dark…Wing …not…Bird Boy.” He gave her a reproachful pout when he said this.

She laughed and said, “Dark Wing, it is.”

She had moved her campsite after her conversation with Agents X and Y, as she liked to call the supposed hunters. She also kept an eye on Shallow Cove and hiked to a cliff above it to see a fast-looking motorboat with an enigmatic governmental seal on it moored there. They didn’t appear to be going anywhere and sometimes she had heard them thrashing about in the trees, looking for Dark Wing, but they never came near the cabin.

One night when the two weeks were almost up she said, mostly to herself, “I don’t know what to do. I can’t leave you and you can’t hide in this mice-infested pile of cedar forever. I can’t take you home. Those goons will get you.”

She didn’t expect him to follow that yet and sighed when he said, “Glass water.”

That perplexed her. They didn’t have any glasses here, though she had tapped the glass in the window and taught him that word. She offered him her thermos of water. He just shook his head and, with more insistence, said, “Glass water” and pointed in the direction of the beach, where the full moon was reflecting on the water. Maybe he just wanted to get out of this cabin?

“No, “she said, “bad guys, remember?

With an urgent shriek he repeated, “Glass water!”

That’s when she heard something large and lumbering coming through the alders and bracken to the cabin. Ava laid odds it wasn’t a bear.

“Ok,” she said, “glass water, it is,” and they ran out the back door. She let Dark Wing lead until she realized he was headed straight toward Shallow Cove, that clear and glasslike body of water that revealed every pebble on its bottom. Glass water. Of course. What if one of the goons was still there? At least one of them would be after them as soon as they saw they were no longer at the cabin. How long did they have?

A bullet zipping past her ear answered her question and they ran faster. Ava regretted her decision to follow Dark Wing when they came up short at the edge of the cliffs above Shallow Cove. Another bullet cracked passed them.

“Jump,” said her feathered student.

Terrified, Ava yelled “Are you crazy? I’ll die! I don’t think you can fly with me. Anyway, you’re a better target in the air.”

“Hold...on,” he said.

A bullet pierced the thermos hanging at her side and she decided anything was worth trying. He held her and they jumped, the downward momentum only slightly arrested by Dark Wing’s outspread wings. Another bullet flew by but now he had folded his wings and they were plummeting toward the water.

There was a perfect reflection in the calm water of the cove and, in the seconds before impact, Ava thought there was something wrong with that reflection, then there was the cold, stinging slap of salt water and a feeling like being on a roller coaster. Down was up and up was down.

Just when she thought she could not hold her breath any longer, they surfaced. Before she opened her eyes, Ava knew they were someplace different. The air was drier and the water did not smell of salt.

She opened her eyes and saw she and Dark Wing were near the shore of a mountain lake illuminated by the light of three moons. There were no trees, only scrub and flowers, and the mountains were taller here. She couldn’t speak but the water was shallow enough to stand and walk to shore in.

Dark Wing shook the water out of his feathers and guided her up the nearest mountain. From it, she could see great plains and a forest beyond. The sun was beginning to rise over the eastern forest.

Dark Wing gestured around them, and said, “Home.”

[JimboBaggins]

tried to read this yesterday but got interrupted. Glad I came back. Makings of a very cool adventure. Hope you continue.

[daughter_of_kings]

Yes, what Jimbo said. More, please.

[OrangeblossomTook]

Thank you, Jimbo and DoK. I don't know if I will continue. I didn't really intend to but it is rather like the begninning of a novel, isn't it? Maybe I will brainstorm a few ideas of what the story would be and such and give it a go in November for Nanowritmo?

[JimboBaggins]

It does do well as is but still begs for another chapter. Dark Wing is an interesting character. Elements of conservation/environmental, sci-fi, fantasy and possible romance? Ava has the makings of a great heroine in her world and his.
Hope you find the spark and time to continue...

[OrangeblossomTook]

Oh, yes. Thank you, dear Jimbo. I hope I can do it, too. November is Nanowrimo, when you write a novel in a month. I never thought about doing it and have never written anything very long but I am a quick writer and the encouragement you and DoK gave me actually caused a few ideas to flutter about. I have to brainstorm and make notes and an outline but since this wouldn't be a research-intensive type of novel, I'll probably be chomping at the bit to really start writing before then. Heck, I'll do it. Why not? It'll take me 3 hours a day but lots of people watch that much TV. It'll be a fun test and task.

Here is the info.

[daughter_of_kings]

As my husband would say.... Go, Write, Win!

Jimbo and I will be cheering you on, and looking forward to your finished product at the end of November.